


Speaker for the Dead

by lucidscreamer



Series: The Light of Egypt [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Ancient Egypt, Friendship, Gen, Ghosts, Spiritualism, Supernatural - Freeform, ancient egyptian spirits, mediumship, victorian au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-25
Updated: 2012-03-25
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucidscreamer/pseuds/lucidscreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryou Bakura saw dead people.</p><p>Not only saw them, but also heard them, felt them, smelled them -- constantly, at all hours of the day and night. Voices (whispering, singing, shouting) tugged at the fringes of his conscious awareness. Ghosts flitted at the corners of his vision, gray wraiths at the edge of vision, or danced and gibbered around him, desperate to garner his attentions. Phantom touches ghosted along his skin when there was no stray breeze to blame, and the fading scents of exotic spices and perfumes lingered in the stale air of his cramped, boarding house room.</p><p>There were not many true mediums in the world of the living, and those few were in great demand -- not by the living, but by the dead. They all wanted to be heard, to have Ryou pass their messages on to the ones they had left behind. Since the childhood fever that had given him his ability, he had not enjoyed a moment's peace and quiet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speaker for the Dead

**Speaker for the Dead**

 

Ryou Bakura saw dead people.

 

Not only saw them, but also heard them, felt them, _smelled_ them -- constantly, at all hours of the day and night. Voices ( _whispering, singing, shouting_ ) tugged at the fringes of his conscious awareness. Ghosts flitted at the corners of his vision, gray wraiths at the edge of vision, or danced and gibbered around him, desperate to garner his attentions. Phantom touches ghosted along his skin when there was no stray breeze to blame, and the fading scents of exotic spices and perfumes lingered in the stale air of his cramped, boarding house room.

 

There were not many true mediums in the world of the living, and those few were in great demand -- not by the living, but _by the dead_. They all wanted to be heard, to have Ryou pass their messages on to the ones they had left behind. Since the childhood fever that had given him his ability, he had not enjoyed a moment's peace and quiet.

 

Since finding -- some would say "acquiring without remuneration" -- the odd gold ring with the eerie eye at its center, things had gone considerably downhill.

 

-o0o-

 

"No, I will _not_ steal that woman's necklace for you!" Ryou pinched the bridge of his nose, quite certain his brain was actually trying to hammer its way through the front of his skull to escape the increasingly strident protestations of the Tomb Robber within. "If you do not cease this behavior at once, I shall allow the Pharaoh control of my body for an entire extra hour tonight. _Your_ hour, I might add."

 

The Tomb Robber's voice cut off as abruptly as if someone had flipped a switch.

 

"Thank you!"

 

Satisfied that he had made his point, Ryou adjusted his hat and continued down the rain-washed pavement at a steady clip. The chill wind of autumn nipped at his nose and blew the hem of his long overcoat around his lower limbs. His boots splashed through puddles, soaking the hems of his trousers. The day was damp and grey, the sky dark with clouds threatening to do more than spit a steady drizzle of rain over the city. He allowed himself a sigh and held the neck of his coat closer about his throat. If only the Tomb Robber had not used his scarf as a get-away rope (a not entirely successful bit of improvisation), Ryou would not now be courting a sore throat on his way to the docks.

 

It was a good time to be leaving London. Not only was winter settling in, but -- despite the cold weather -- things were getting entirely too hot for Ryou's comfort. Not as content as the Pharaoh or some of Ryou's other "guests" to await an invitation to do so, the Tomb Robber had developed a penchant for taking over Ryou's body whenever the whim struck (and Ryou's attention sufficiently lagged). If Ryou's defenses were down, as they frequently were due to his perennial distraction (it being difficult to concentrate on any one thing when one was constantly bombarded by the very voluble dearly departed and their demands), the Tomb Robber would take over Ryou's body and get up to all kinds of mischief -- jewelry theft being a current favorite, though by far one of his tamer entertainments. Ryou still blushed at some of the memories the Magician-Priest (who did not enjoy being dragged along on the Tomb Robber's little excursions, but considered it his duty to try to keep the thief in line) had shown him.

 

Ryou hesitated in the shadow of a building. Tucking his chin to his chest to make it less obvious that he was holding a conversation "with himself", he said, "Now, I want you all to listen carefully..."

 

-o0o-

 

And, so, after a brief passage on a steam ship, Ryou soon found himself in France. He quickly found he did not care for the cities and the countryside was, sadly, wet and rather dreary. The foul weather seemed determined to follow him everywhere he ventured, as if he had been cursed with a little black rain cloud above his head. The Tomb Robber complained constantly about the lack of suitable occupation. The Pharaoh merely seemed bored. The other voices spirits were strangely (perhaps alarmingly) silent. Ryou worried.

 

Giving up on his initial vague plans to spend a month or two sketching the French scenery, be it urban or bucolic, Ryou departed for Spain, but the ill-tempered weather followed him from France to Spain to Italy and even Greece. Rain, rain, and more rain -- an almost constant drip and deluge, from morning mists to midnight thunderstorms. By the fourth week, he was heartily sick of wet shoes, damp clothing, and leaden skies. He was heartily sick of _rain_.

 

He decided to head for sunnier climes where rain was a distant rumor, somewhere warm and _dry_. Perhaps, the desert? And then inspiration struck him with all the subtlety of a half brick in a sock, wielded in a dark back alley.

 

Egypt.

 

Yes, Ryou decided as he wrung the water from his last pair of clean woolen socks and listened to the incessant patter of rain drops on the roof of his hostel. He would go to Egypt, the land of pyramids and pharaohs -- and, most importantly, _very little rain_.

 

At that moment, it sounded like the perfect plan. It never occurred to him that the voices in his head were, for once, all apparently in agreement -- and ominously silent.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted as chapter 3 of "Five Lives Ryou Bakura Never Lived," this ficlet spawned its own alternate universe. Other stories set in this Victorian AU will be posted as a part of the "Light of Egypt" series. Some of the stories will be gen, some will contain slash.


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